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The N.F.L.’s Head Cases

AFTER an unusually large number of brain-jarring tackles last week, the National Football League went on the offensive against players. Commissioner Roger Goodell doled out a total of $175,000 in fines to three players and threatened future suspensions for what a league official called “devastating” hits to the head.

As someone who played in the N.F.L. for six years, I’m all for reducing reckless play as much as possible. But the league’s effort to police particular kinds of hits raises plenty of questions. For instance, what if I lead with my head to make a tackle and knock myself out? Do I get suspended for that? What if I lead with my head and no one gets hurt? What if I hit an opponent with my shoulder and knock him out? What if I hit him in the rib cage and puncture his lung? What if we’re both going for the ball and I catch him under the chin with my helmet? What if he dies?

The truth is that N.F.L. players have been using their heads as weapons since they first donned pads as children. It’s the nature of the sport. Sure, coaches tell you to wrap up an opponent with your arms, to keep your head up, to see what you hit. But when a player is moving forward, his knees are bent and his body is leaning forward. The head leads no matter what.

Some say players should block and tackle with the shoulder pads instead. Doing that means choosing a side, trying to hit an opponent with the left or right shoulder. That technique will get you cut by any professional team before you can begin to perfect it. It uses only half of your body and half of your strength, and it removes your arms from the equation. In a head-first hit, the arms are free to follow the first contact with a bear hug that brings the opponent to the ground.

In my first two seasons in the N.F.L., I played wide receiver, so I rarely had to concern myself with blocking or tackling. Then I was moved to tight end, where I quickly learned that to have any chance of containing the large men across the line of scrimmage, I had to hit them square in the face with my helmet. “Put a hat on him,” coaches implore.

Photo

Credit
Graham Roumieu

I felt woozy or “saw stars” plenty of times, but that didn’t stop me, because using my head was the only effective technique. It was either lead with my head or get trampled. On kickoff returns, I had to sprint back 30 yards, whip around, size up the man I was assigned to block and take his helmet directly in my face. Avoid that contact and your manhood is questioned. The brain cells I lost on plays like that were of less concern to me than being called out in meetings by coaches.

While only the most violent, dramatic and egregious hits make the highlights, there are probably six or seven helmet-to-helmet hits on every play in the N.F.L. The offensive and defensive linemen are smacking heads, running backs are colliding with linebackers, tight ends are blocking defensive ends, safeties are flying in to make tackles.

Before the 1950s, when they wore soft helmets without face masks, players didn’t lead with their heads. They dived at opponents’ legs and corralled them with their arms. Leading with the head meant facial disfigurement and lots of stitches. But once leather was replaced by hard plastic, enclosing the head in protective armor, all bets were off. Couple that with the size of today’s players and the speed of the modern game, and you have a recipe for cerebellum custard.

I understand the N.F.L.’s desire to protect “defenseless” players. But how do we define defenseless? Someone who isn’t paying attention? Someone who doesn’t see you? There are instances where it’s obvious, like a player jogging on the opposite side of the field from the action. The N.F.L. already does a good job of penalizing those types of hits.

But when a receiver is trying to catch a ball or avoid being tackled, the height of his head is constantly changing, often making it impossible for a defensive player to judge the point of impact. One of the players fined by the N.F.L. last week, James Harrison of the Pittsburgh Steelers, was right to say that the penalties handicap his playing style. Maybe a new helmet design would help, something that would better protect the skull and brain but also offer a more forgiving outer surface. The N.F.L. could also try educating coaches, who now believe that a headless hit is an ineffectual one, about the perils of head-first tackling, in hopes that over time safer techniques would become the norm. Or maybe the league should do away with helmets altogether and return to its early “rag days,” bloody noses and all.

But stiffer on-field penalties, fines, suspensions, seminars, summit meetings, press releases — these are knee-jerk public-relations reactions that will do little. The only way to prevent head injuries in football is no more football. It is a violent game by design. The use of helmets plays a critical role in creating that violence. The players understand the risks, and the fans enjoy watching them take those risks. Changing the rules enough to truly safeguard against head injuries would change the game beyond recognition. It wouldn’t be football anymore.

Nate Jackson played for the Denver Broncos from 2003 to 2008.

A version of this op-ed appears in print on October 24, 2010, on page WK11 of the New York edition with the headline: The N.F.L.’s Head Cases. Today's Paper|Subscribe